


In The Morning

by teamfreewilll



Series: Paper Cranes [2]
Category: Prison Break
Genre: And a little bit angsty I guess, Episode: s05e09 Behind the Eyes, F/M, Fluffy, disorded eating, episode coda, season five
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:29:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26136538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teamfreewilll/pseuds/teamfreewilll
Summary: Michael wakes up the morning after Sara takes him home. It's his first morning as a free man.
Relationships: Michael Scofield/Sara Tancredi
Series: Paper Cranes [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1894243
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	In The Morning

Michael wakes up to soft sheets underneath him and a warm body pressed up against his side. For a few moments, he forgets. He forgets that it’s all over, that for the first time in seven years he has a home. He’s had seven years of prison cells and cold floors, with only the thought of Sara to comfort him. Now her body is beside his, and he can’t quite believe it. He thought that even if he did make it home one day, Sara simply wouldn’t want him. That she wouldn’t be able to forgive him for the lies, for letting her go on thinking he was dead. The fact that she had welcomed him into her home, and into her bed, it was more than he could ever have hoped for. Laying on his stomach, he pushes his face into the pillows and breathes in the fresh linen scent. He wishes that he could stay in this bed with Sara all day long, but they have plans. They want life to stay as normal as possible for Mike, so they’re going to take him to the park to see Lincoln and Sheba. 

He lies in the silence for ten minutes, quiet save for the sound of Sara’s breathing beside him. Opening his eyes, he looks at her, and the way the morning sun warms her back. She’s pressed up against his side, and she’s so beautiful. Michael moves slowly, as to not wake her up. God knows she deserves to lie in. He rolls over in bed, pulling the blankets out from underneath him. The bed creaks under his weight but Sara doesn’t wake up. He figures he’ll go downstairs and make her a coffee and bring it up to her. He can’t resist, he leans over to press a kiss to her cheek. She smiles in her sleep and snuggles further into the sheets. She’s the most glorious sight that he has ever seen. 

Michael realizes when he climbs out of bed and stretches his arms over his head, that he doesn’t have any clothes. Only what he’d taken off the night before, and he’d been wearing those clothes for days. He doesn’t really want to put the sweat-stained, dirt-covered clothes back on. He knows Sara’s closet will still be full of Jacob’s clothes, and although he can’t help but think about how weird it is to wear his wife’s husband's clothes, he walks over to the walk-in closet and opens it. One side is all Sara’s clothes. Work blouses, floaty dresses, smart pants. He spots a familiar looking pattern on the rack, and his fingers are drawn towards it. It’s the dress that Sara wore, that day on the beach when they promised themselves to each other for the rest of their lives. He can’t quite believe she’s kept it all this time. He lets the fabric slip through his fingers as he closes his eyes, remembering that day. The beach, drinking, and dancing. Just before it all went wrong. The last good memory he had for seven years. The other side of the closet is Jacob’s, his sports jackets and polo shirts. Not the kind of thing Michael wears, but he picks out a navy blue shirt and a pair of slacks. Generic enough to work. 

Before he heads downstairs to make coffee, he wants to shower. There’s still a layer of grime covering him and it’s been months since he’d had a hot shower. Something with decent water pressure, that he didn’t have to share it with twenty or thirty other guys. Sara’s guest bathroom is nice, the kind of decor he’d expect her to have. Simple, clean, with a feminine touch. The shower is huge, and it might just be the most enticing thing Michael has seen in a long time. He turns the dial, lets the water heat up, and steps inside. The water beats down him and the grime washes down the plughole. He wishes he could wash away the sins of the past seven years too, but that’s something that won’t disappear with a hot shower and all the soap in the world. He cleans himself up and turns off the shower, steps out before he can get so lost in his thoughts that the water turns cold. Michael doesn’t want to think about the past anymore, he wants to look forward to the future he can share with his wife and his son.

Once Michael is dried off and dressed, he pauses by the basin to look into the mirror. For the longest time, he hadn’t recognized the reflection looking back at him. He’d been Kaniel Outis for four years, and before that he’d had so many alter egos, that Michael Scofield had gotten lost somewhere amongst them. For seven years he’d fought so hard to hold on to himself, because he was fighting to get back to his family, and he wanted to be the same person that had left them. He had changed though, and he would have been crazy to believe that he hadn’t. A person didn’t go through the things that he had been through and come out of it the same. The horrors that he had seen, the things he’d had to do just to survive. Those were his burdens to bear, and he’d bear them for the rest of his life. He’d be damned if ever let Sara know, if he ever tainted his family with that part of him. Sara had said that she would be there for him, come whatever, but a part of him couldn’t help but feel like if she knew the truth, if she knew everything that had happened, she wouldn’t be so eager to share the load.

The bedroom door was cracked open, and Michael peeked in on his way past to see that Sara was still sleeping deeply and had migrated to the middle of the bed. She lay on her back with her hair spread around her as though it was some kind of halo. He made his way downstairs and into the kitchen, and he was a little surprised to see that Mike was already up, and had already fixed himself a bowl of cereal. He's perched on one of the stools pushed up to the breakfast bar, his feet dangling high off the ground. It shouldn’t have surprised Michael that his kid was an independent one, just like he had been when he was younger. The problem was, he didn’t really know what he was supposed to say to his son. Mike was still wary, he could see that in the way his eyes hadn’t lifted from his bowl of Frosted Flakes and milk. They hadn’t been alone at all yet. Michael had only ever been an uncle, and although he’d helped a lot with raising LJ when Lincoln had been going through his struggles, he really had no idea how to be a father. He’d never gotten round to reading the books, and he doubted that any of them would tell you how to explain to your seven year old son that you’d come back from the dead and you’d be living with him now. 

“Morning,” Michael says, moving over to the fridge and opening it up, looking through its contents to give him something to do. He’d never stepped foot in this kitchen before, had no idea where everything was to make a coffee. There was creamer in the fridge, so he pulls that out and places it down on the island behind him. “I was going to make your mom a coffee, but I-- Uh, I don’t know where anything is.” His hand comes up to rub the back of his neck as he looks over at Mike. The kid had finally looked up from his bowl when Michael had spoken again, and he finished his mouthful of cereal before replying. 

“We have one of those machines that make them for you. Mom likes those, you could make her one.” The seven-year-old points out the coffee machine sat pushed back against the wall, with a tower of pods beside them. Michael could see that he was trying, and he gave him a smile in return. 

“Thanks.” He heads over to the machine and presses a button to bring it to life. He’d had something like this a long time ago, in his apartment before he’d ever gone to Fox River. He sticks the pod into the machine and lets it whir and buzz as it makes the coffee. While it does so, he leans against the island, across from Mike, and looks around the room to stop himself from just staring at his son. Michael wants to take in every detail about him, drink up all seven years he’d missed, but the last thing he wanted to do was freak him out by staring. They simply sit in silence until the coffee machine beeps, indicating that it’s finished. Michael wishes he could think of something to say, some way to stir up conversation with his son. Mike must have read his mind because as Michael is stirring creamer into the cup, he speaks. 

“My mom said you were in Greece. She flew there to see you.” 

Michael wonders if there’s a question in there somewhere, so he turns to Mike, bringing the coffee with him and placing it down in front of him. The smell is enticing, but he doesn’t know if his stomach will handle it. It’s bizarre to him, how coffee is now something exotic to him. When you’re on the run, and you’re living life as a dead man, you learn not to take for granted a simple thing like a cup of coffee. 

“Yeah. We were on an island called Crete. Me, your mom, and your uncle Lincoln.” He doesn’t mention Whip, the thought of his untimely death still too fresh to deal with. Just another person to add to the list of lives that have been lost in the wake of the storm that is Michael Scofield. Another burden to bear. 

“Mom took me on holiday to Greece once, when I was little. We went on a big boat and saw real dolphins in the sea.” Michael wants to hear it all. Every holiday, every birthday. Every first and every pivotal moment in his son’s life. He’s got seven years' worth of memories and stories to catch up on. He wants to know everything about Mike, and he wants him to see him as his father. He knows it will be a while before he can forget what Jacob told him, and before he can really trust him. Michael just hopes it happens. 

“Yeah? That sounds fun. I-- We didn’t get to see a lot of the island, but maybe one day we could all go back.” Michael wants to make happier memories on the island, not lying in a bed, poisoned, and almost dying while his wife and brother looked on. Michael sees the seven-year-old think it over, and then he jumps down from the breakfast bar and carries his bowl over to the dishwasher. Michaels thinks he’s maybe pushed the conversation too far already, suggesting some kind of family vacation, like everyone’s life hasn’t just been turned upside down, but then Mike turns back to him and looks up at him. 

“Could we go to the beach, too?” He asks, his brown bangs framing his face. “Uncle Lincoln takes me to the beach sometimes, on the weekend when Mom has to work. Next time we go, you could come with us. Uncle Lincoln is really bad at building sandcastles. Mom said you used to build skyscrapers, does that mean you can build sandcastles too?” 

It dawns on Michael at that moment that he’s never built a sandcastle before in his life. Being raised in Chicago and chucked from foster home to foster home as a kid, trips to the beach were never on the agenda. He couldn’t remember ever going on a vacation as a child, maybe they went once when he was very young, before his Mom ‘died’ and everything went to hell. 

“I can give it a really good try.” Michael gives his son a smile, and that seems to satisfy Mike for now. The kid nods and walks away, heading towards the stairs, but then he stops and turns around, heads back into the kitchen. He looks like he has a question he wants to ask, but he’s not sure whether he can. 

“You can ask me whatever you want, Mike. I’ll try to answer it.” He encourages the seven-year-old with a smile. The coffee on the side is starting to cool, but if Mike wants a whole explanation and the whole story about where he’s been for seven years, then he’ll do it. 

Mike’s playing with his fingers in front of him, curling them around each other, and it’s a nervous habit he’s inherited from his father. 

“Are you gonna stay?” He asks, and Michael’s struck with the impact that his return has had. Mike had grown up with Jacob in his life, raising him and treating him like he was his own. Now he’s gone, all of a sudden, and there’s this stranger in his place. He’d always worried that maybe Sara wouldn’t want him here when he finally came back, but it hadn’t really occurred to him that Mike wouldn’t want him around, and really it should have. 

“I don’t have to. Not if you don’t want me to. If you’re uncomfortable with me being here I can go and stay with your Uncle Lincoln.” It would kill Michael to be apart from his family again, to be so close but still be looking in from the outside. If he had to, for Mike, he would back off. 

“I want you to stay,” Mike responds, which surprises Michael. “You make my mom happy, happier than she ever was when Jacob was here, I think.” He pauses and then says. “And you’re my dad. So you should be here, right?” 

Michael doesn’t expect to choke up, but he’s so amazed at his kid's intuitiveness and empathy. Mike is so bright for his age, the way he picks up on how different Sara has been since she’d found out Michael was alive. If he’s like this now, then he’s going to be unstoppable when he grows up. Hearing his son call him dad, it means the world to him. After hearing him call Jacob his dad over the phone, he thought that maybe he’d never get that privilege. 

He clears his throat and looks down at the counter for a moment, composing himself before he responds.

“That… That means a lot to me, Mike. Thank you. But if you ever need space, or if you don’t feel right about me being here, you can be honest with me. Just because I won’t be here in the house, doesn’t mean I won’t be here for you or your Mom.” Michael wants his son to know that no matter what, he doesn’t plan on missing a second more of being his dad. 

Mike simply nods, giving his dad a smile. “Are we still going to the park to see uncle Lincoln later?”

“Yep. We’ll take some lunch with us, probably.” Michael responds, picking up the cup of coffee and walking towards Mike. 

“Okay. I’m gonna go get dressed.” And off he goes, jogging up the stairs and back into his bedroom. That conversation went a lot better than Michael expected, and he feels like a weight has lifted off of his shoulders. He’ll figure out this whole dad thing, with time. He makes his own way upstairs and back into the guest bedroom, where Sara is still laid out in the bed, fast asleep. He feels like a kid at Christmas, he can’t wait to wake her up and tell her all about the conversation he’s just had with his son. She looks so peaceful and so beautiful, but Michael knows she has plans for the day, and she’ll need to be awake for them. Even so, he can’t help but stand in the doorway for a few moments, and just watch her sleep. Watch the way her chest moves up and down as she breathes. He takes in every detail of her face, drinks it all in. Seven years hasn’t aged her at all, he thinks. She’s still as beautiful and youthful as the last time he saw her. He moves into the room and over to her side of the bed, placing the coffee down on the bedside table. Once he’s climbed onto the bed, he leans over Sara and presses a kiss to her forehead to wake her up. When she starts to sir, Michael sits on the bed beside her and waits for those beautiful brown eyes to open.

“Morning.” He whispers with a smile after bleary eyes blink a couple of times and then focus on him. Sara smiles back at him and then rubs the sleep out of her eyes. Michael sees that look on her face, the hint of disbelief. Like she can’t quite believe they’re both here, laying in bed together with the sun shining through the window and warming their bodies. “I made you coffee.” he grabs the mug from beside him and holds it out to her, letting the smell of the caffeine drift up her nose. 

“You’re amazing.” Sara sighs happily, pushes herself up to lean against the headboard and takes the mug from her husband's hand. The sheets pool around her body and her hair falls across her shoulders in soft waves. She closes her eyes and wraps her hands around the mug, breathing in the scent. Michael thinks she looks nothing short of angelic. When she opens her eyes again, he’s still staring at her. 

“What?” She laughs, setting the mug down in her lap and raising her eyebrows at him.

“Nothing. Nothing.” He starts, shaking his head as he joins her against the headboard, letting a hand rest on her thigh. “Just… Breathing you in. You’re beautiful.” 

Sara laughs again and takes a sip of her coffee, and Michael watches the blush creeping up on her cheeks. “Please, I don’t think anyone looks good when they’ve just woken up.” 

“You definitely do. Trust me, I should know. I’ve woken up to some ugly faces beside me for the past seven years, yours isn’t one of them.” Michael presses a soft kiss to Sara’s bare shoulder. He can’t keep his hands and his eyes off of her, he wants to be drunk on Sara. Dizzy from the sight of her. He could look at her forever, revel in the fact that he doesn’t have to hide around corners, desperate for a glance at his wife. He can just look at her, even if it makes her blush.

“I just can’t believe you’re here, Michael,” Sara whispers after a few moments of silence, and it’s her turn to stare this time. Michael leans forward and captures her lips, letting his eyes drift shut. His hand moves to push her messy bed hair back from her face and cradle her cheek. He’ll never tire of holding her, touching her, kissing her. She’s his, and he’ll take ever opportunity to remind her of that fact. “My coffee’s cold.” She mumbles against his lips, and Michael pulls away to laugh. 

“Your pillow talk is impeccable, Mrs. Scofield.” He responds, pecking her lips once more before he lets his head fall back against the headboard. “Mike was awake when I went downstairs. I didn’t really know what I was going to say to him, how he was gonna react to me… But it actually went really well.” Definitely a lot better than Michael had anticipated. “He asked me if I was going to stay. I half expected him to tell me he didn’t want me to, but said that I made you happy and that I was his dad. He called me his dad.” And Michael practically beams at the idea of it. Sara beams right back at him. 

“I told you, it might take him a while, but he wants you here just as much as I do. I just know you’re going to be an amazing father.” One hand holds onto her mug and the other reaches out for Michael's hand, lacing their fingers together. Michael is going to make up for the last seven years, both as a husband and a father. A brother too, he thinks. Lincoln told him a little about what he’s been through since Micheal died, about how he went off the reservation a little. Michael wants to redeem himself, and pull his brother back on to the straight and narrow. After all, it was his disappearance that sent him there in the first place. He guesses he owes it to his brother. 

Michael pulls Sara’s hand towards him and presses a kiss to the back of it. “I love you.” He mumbles, beyond grateful for this second chance he’s been given. They sit together in bed while Sara finishes her coffee, Michael doesn’t want to talk about what he’s been through in the past seven years. It feels too heavy for first thing in the morning. So they talk about Mike, about everything he’s missed, and everything he’s got to look forward to. He plays soccer, Michael learns, and he’s determined to be the most supportive dad on the field every weekend. He won’t miss a single game or a single school play. Not even a doctor's appointment. He’ll be there for it all. Once the coffee cup is empty, and the conversation has tapered off into a comfortable silence, they both climb out of bed to start the day properly. They have all morning to themselves before they have to meet Lincoln and Sheba at the park, and Michael knows exactly what they’re going to spend the morning doing. 

Sara gets herself ready for the day and they head downstairs together. She asks Michael if he wants breakfast and he refuses. He very rarely gets hungry these days, some of the places he’d spent the past seven years in didn’t offer much in the way of refreshments. He taught himself that food was simply a means to survival, and not a luxury, a long time ago. He probably couldn’t stomach regular food anyway, not after living off a bread and rice diet for as long as he can remember. He’s happy to simply sit beside Sara as she eats her muesli anyway.

“I’m going to start cleaning,” Sara says once she’s at the sink washing out her cereal bowl, and Michael knows what she means. She means she’s going to grab a trash bag and start the long process of removing Jacob Ness from their house. “Do you want to help?” He thinks the process would be good for him, if it weren’t for the fact that he had Jacob’s face tattooed on the back of his hands. They could get rid of every trace of him. Every photo and memory in the trash, but for the foreseeable future, Michael would carry around the face of the man who had ruined his life. Still, he isn’t going to let Sara go through that difficult process on her own, so he agrees to help. 

“Where shall we start?” Michael asks as he watches Sara grab a roll of black trash bags from the cabinet underneath the sink and turn to him. He knows it will take weeks, maybe months before Jacob no longer haunts this house. They can at least make a start today. 

“Living room, I guess. Work our way back.” Sara rakes a hand through her hair, and then Michael follows her through to the living room. Together they take every photo out of the frame, tear it up, and put it in the trash. Michael can see the tension draining from his wife’s shoulders with every photo they destroy. His books sit on the shelf, and they get put into another bag. They can all be donated to a thrift store. Mike comes down when they’re halfway through tossing out all the paperwork from Jacobs's office, and he doesn’t ask what they’re doing, he just clambers up on to a chair and grabs folders and files from the shelf and starts throwing them in the trash. It’s an odd family activity, but it’s something that all of them need. One day, when Michael’s ready, he’ll get a normal job. He’ll be a structural engineer again, and maybe this room will be his office instead.

It takes a couple of hours before the office is empty, and the back of the car is full of books and other things they don’t want to just throw away, ready to go to the thrift store. They’ll drop it all off on the way to the park later. The rest of the stuff is in the trash, ready to go to a landfill. They didn’t bother saving anything that Jacob might request someday. If he’s as smart as he claims to be, he’ll never contact them to ask for anything. Michael and Sara are worn out from a hard morning’s work, but as they sit out on the back porch, Sara with another coffee in her hands and Michael with bottled water in his, they both have soft smiles on their faces. They’re watching Michael kick his soccer ball around on the grass. It may not seem like much, throwing away paperwork and books, but it’s the start of the healing process for both of them. 

Lincoln doesn’t know yet that Sheba’s going to be at the park later. Michael figures the first thing he can do for his brother is something he won’t do for himself, so he makes the call and invites her to meet them there. When they go back inside, Sara and Mike pack a lunch together to take with them. Michael offers to drive, and they roll along with the windows rolled down, music playing on the radio, and smiles on their faces. Michael thinks to himself, if every day for the rest of his life feels like this one, he’ll be satisfied.

Yesterday, he laid Kaniel Outis to rest. Today, Michael Scofield’s life begins again.

**Author's Note:**

> I enjoyed writing my first Prison Break fic so much, and I had so many incredible ideas for more stories that I've decided to turn these fics into a series titled the 'Paper Cranes' series! Hope you enjoyed this fic, I really loved delving into Michael's story and writing from his perspective. I took a dive into how Michael's seven years as a ghost would really affect his psyche, and I hope I wrote it right. Michael Scofield is such a complex character, and I really wanted to do him and his trauma justice.


End file.
